The Notebook
by Shrimpy Kay
Summary: A man, a woman, and a story about true love. Based on one of my favorite movies.
1. Chapter 1

_A few things suggested that you read before continuing:_

_1. Yes, this is based on the movie The Notebook. Some quotes are taken straight from the movie, and some scenes are moved around, but it's the same general idea. Unfortunately, if you've seen the movie, you know what happens. _

_2. This is for Notorious JMG's contest. If you don't understand, go to /forum/TWoPKickedUsOutButWeStillLoveChuck/49974/ and it's at the top. If you haven't joined the board (and sorry if you see this message on top of almost every chapter of every story), you should. Oh, and I still used some of the old rules._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or the Notebook_

_Thanks Natty for beta-ing, and for the support. Especially the support._

_Psh, it seems so much longer when it's in Microsoft Word._

--

A man somewhere in his seventies walked into the room, his deep brown eyes and small smile showing nervousness and hope. He walked over slowly to the reception desk, where a woman barely looked up before pointing over to a corner in the room. There sat a woman, her hair gray and white from age, sitting and reading. He walked over and introduced himself as Charles, asking if she'd like to hear a story. The woman, whose name was Rachel, smiled and gratefully accepted. It had been a long time since she'd heard a good story.

--

He will always remember the first time he saw her. The medium length blond hair cascading over her shoulders, a confidant smile on her face as she sauntered over to the counter. The moment their eyes connected, Chuck Bartowski, an ordinary nerd, felt something in his chest for the first time in years. Something he hadn't felt since before a horrible breakup with his college girlfriend.

--

Rachel smiled. "Chuck, huh? Wonder where you get your names from."

Returning the grin, Charles shrugged, wrinkles diving deeper into his skin. "Anything else?"

"Where does this story take place?"

"Partly in Los Angeles, California, and partly in North Carolina. Right now we're in Green Bay, Wisconsin."

"Oh? This is a complicated story, but I kind of like it. I feel like I've heard it before. So this is a love story?"

"Yes, it is."

She raised her hands slowly and clapped with delight. "Ooh, my favorite."

--

He worked at an electronics store. She, Sarah Walker, worked for the CIA. A weird twist of fate brought them together. It was Chuck's birthday, and he received an email from an old college buddy. Major details aside, inside this email was something called the Intersect, which held every government secret. She was assigned to protect him along with the help of John Casey.

--

"This is a little complicated."

Charles looked up from the book. "Don't worry, it will all come together soon."

"Would you like me to stop interrupting?"

"I don't mind it."

"I think I will. It helps with the story."

He readjusted his glasses and flipped the page.

--

They had to pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend, which provided tough, because in reality they both had feelings for each other. It was around six months since they'd met, when Chuck, Sarah, Ellie—his sister—and Devon, her now fiancé, went to a fair. Despite the flashing lights and booming noise around them, Chuck could not take his eyes off the golden smile on her face, which grew even more when he was able to win her a stuffed teddy bear. He knew what days like this meant to her; she was not used to being normal.

They were walking hand in hand, half for the sake of the world around them, and half because they wanted to. In front of them, Ellie was resting her head on Devon's shoulder as they walked, tired from the day's activity. They'd spent all afternoon at the fair, and now as the sun set down, exhaustion set in. Still, all day Sarah had waited for the line for the Tilt-A-Whirl to shorten, and now the four ran onto the near-empty ride. Chuck and Sarah shared one of the seats, and as the ride lurched, being unprepared, she was thrown into his arms. He laughed and put his hands around her waist, so that she continued leaning on him. Turning her head backwards so that he was upside-down in her sight, she slightly smiled and yelled with glee as they continued spinning.

As the ride slowed to a stop, she took the chance to rest her head on his shoulder, and he gave her a look of pure love, a perfect Kodak moment in his life. When the four got off, Ellie and Devon said they were going to go, and when the others were done, they could leave in Sarah's car. They said their goodbyes and Chuck leaned forward once they'd left, whispering if she wanted to take a walk along the pier. She nodded, and he led her by the hand. They were the only ones in sight, besides a teenager walking past them, loudly whispering into a phone about how "Natty loves Jordy". He thought about how often the word love was used, when most of the time it meant nothing, or at least nothing close to what he felt right now. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of the street. Taking a leap of faith, he asked if she wanted to dance. And surprisingly, she said yes.

--

"They really were in love, weren't they?"

Her tone made it less of a question, and more like a statement. Rachel looked at Charles intently, waiting for an answer. He smiled at her once again, and replied, "Yes, they were."

"Have you ever felt love like that?"

Taking the time to stare right into her eyes, he said that yes, he had.

--

And so the two took a chance. They agreed to follow their instincts and start a real relationship. Both were ecstatic, as was everyone around them, maybe with the exception of the secret agents' bosses. But there was nothing anyone could do, because nothing could keep them apart. In fact, the two became inseparable.

She had a mini mission for a few days, and had to go to Boston. Chuck was there when she got off the plane and she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and fusing their lips together. Two days away from him was as bad as two years, in her opinion.

They were at the beach: Ellie, Devon, Sarah, and Chuck. The two ran into the water splashing, and Sarah shrieked as she was lifted into Chuck's sturdy arms and swung around. When he let her go, she continued spinning around, her hands up in the air, her mouth opened wide in a grin. Chuck laughed, watching her, and ran over to where she now was. When she noticed him standing next to her with no body contact, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him softly, her hands on his neck.

Wearing his sweatshirt and gathering in the warmth from both his embrace and the fire in front of them. She smiled slightly and nudged his shoulder so that he was now staring back at her. Deciding that a minute without kissing Chuck was a minute wasted, she traced kisses along the corners of his lips, which were sticky from the mix of marshmallow fluff and graham cracker bits. He groaned contently and nuzzled her face with a teasing smile, causing Sarah to pull away and laugh. She hadn't felt this good in God-knows-how-long.

Arms around each other, Chuck and Sarah leaned into each other, watching the moon and absently minded swatting away mosquitoes that came close. All was silent until Sarah whispered something almost inaudible about a house and shutters. Chuck looked toward her, moving his head forward so that he could see her face, and looked at her questioningly. She looked down and played with his hands nervously, suddenly wanting to crawl into a hole in the ground and pretend she'd never said anything. "I want a white house with blue shutters. With a white picket fence and a big dog. And kids, I want kids."

"I'll make you one."

She looked at him in surprise and wonder, and not knowing what to say, tried something casual, saying that he would likely kill himself by tripping and falling.

"True. But I will find you one, and I won't stop looking until we find the perfect house."

That was when she let a tear slip down her cheek, wondering why she was lucky enough to find a man like him.

--

Out of the corner of his eye, Charles could see Rachel visually fidgeting in her seat, covering her mouth with her right hand. He gave a small smile and closed the book, saving his place with his finger. "You know, you really can interrupt."

She removed her hand, returning the smile. "Well it was at a good part. I really like this story. You're a great writer."

"Thank you. Although you might not feel the same way, once we really get into it. Not everything can stay happy."

A faraway look reached her eye. "Don't you wish that everything could be happy, with no obstacles? No challenges to face; no problems to solve?"

"Ah, but then what reward would be get for getting past those obstacles?" Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned around to face the receptionist. "Hello Kristen. How are you doing today?"

"I'm good, thank you. The doctor would like to see you now."

Turning to Rachel with an apologetic smile, he said that they could continue when he got back. She nodded, saying it was worth the wait, and watched as he rose from his seat and slowly walked with a limp down a hallway, turning into a room.

Having done this many times, Charles sat down on the small cot as the doctor rolled up his sleeve without a word and began checking his breathing. After a minute, he took out a manila folder and began reading, questioning his patient about his health. "I see you've had two heart attacks over the last eighteen months." Charles nodded slowly. "And you're feeling okay?" Another nod. "And you're taking your medication?"

"Every day, twice a day."

Nodding, the doctor muttered, "Good, good." He closed the folder. "So I understand you read to Miss Leecan?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "Every day. To help her remember."

"And you think this will help? I'm sorry, sir, but—"

"I read to her and she remembers. Not always, but sometimes. And those few minutes, they're worth it. Science doesn't believe it, but even you should know that science only goes so far. I love her too much to lose her. Now if we are done here, I have a story to finish."


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's the story. This is due today, and I had very little time to write. So I had no beta (gasp) and I didn't read it over at all (faint), although I did spell check. The prospect of sleep is much more inviting than reading over what I've written. So basically, I don't know what it's like. Maybe it's okay, or horrible… if you want to help me figure it out, just review._

_I was thinking of posting it today, then fixing it later, but I decided against that. Sorry._

_Oh, and I know I've been on writing hiatus for a while. I hope that that'll change soon._

--

All was well, until the notice came. They had anticipated it, but never talked about how to deal with it. And soon enough, the Intersect was removed from his head, and Sarah was told that in a few days time, she would be reassigned and return to her post in Washington DC.

She immediately requested a videoconference with Director Graham, telling Chuck to sit in the other room. Sensing her anger, he sat down without a word and watched as she stormed into their office. The television flickered, Graham's face appearing, and Sarah wasted no time in getting to the point. "I'm resigning."

Thinking for a moment, he replied, "For him?"

"Yes."

"That's not a good reason."

"Maybe not to you," she spat. "All I'm saying is that I'm resigning."

"Well, I'm sorry, but according to your contract you can't resign for another two years, unless something occurs that renders you _unable_. Chuck Bartowski does not count."

Driven to tears, she began screaming at him, saying that she would do everything she could in her power to quit. He listened to her sympathetically, but there was nothing that he could do. Rules were rules.

--

They were sitting on the couch together, Chuck's hand running through her hair repeatedly. Her tears were seeping through his shirt as he mumbled comforting words, his eyes also red and bloodshot. There was nothing that could make them feel better. "Send me letters," she whispered, adding a sniff at the end.

"How?"

"I have a box… at my office. In between missions I can check it. Just tell me that you'll write me"

"Of course," Chuck replied. "But promise me you'll write me back. I can't go two years without hearing from you."

Sarah nodded against his chest. "I swear to you that the minute I get your letter, I'll send one back."

They lied in each other's arms, content to stay there forever.

--

Dropping her luggage down beside him, Chuck tried preparing himself for their goodbye. He tried savoring every second of the feeling of her hand intertwined with his, and the slight shiver when their bodies were so close but not yet touching. Both were trying hard to be strong, but Sarah let out a squeak as a tear rolled down her face. Chuck had changed her so much in the past year and a half, and now, as she heard her seat number called, she wanted to do nothing more than jump into his arms so that he could take them home. It seemed like a dream when Chuck pulled her close, whispering, "I love you," before giving her one more kiss. She reminded him to write and he promised he would. Wiping away a tear, Sarah manages to find her seat before collapsing into it.

--

Another tap at his shoulder. Charles turned around, a hint of annoyance on his face that immediately disappeared when he saw the five people, all in different age ranges, looking back at him. "Ah," he said. "The kids."

"Kids?" Rachel asked.

"My kids." He began introducing them, starting with the oldest, who looked to be in his upper twenties, down to the smallest, who couldn't have been older than ten years old. "Riley, Kathy, Michelle, Nick, and Todd."

They exchanged hellos, Todd including a hug that pleasantly surprised the elder woman. "They're beautiful children," Rachel exclaimed after her hug. "Wouldn't it be nice to—oh, hello."

Kristen was back, nodding at the kids before telling Rachel that it was time to visit the doctor. Everyone watched as she excused herself and left them, before Riley began to speak.

"Dad, why do you stay here? Can't you come home?"

Not meeting his eyes, Charles replied, "I don't expect you to understand."

"Staying here won't do anything! Mom came here to get help, so I don't see why you also have to be here. What do you think it's like, not having either of our parents?"

"Riley…"

He shook his head. "Can't you just… let the nurses take care of her?"

It was now when Charles met his son's eye. "Your mother needs me here, and I need her. I know what it does to you kids, but one day you'll understand."

When Rachel returned and asked where the kids went, Charles explained that they had to leave. But more importantly, there was a story to continue.

--

He wrote to her. Every day, Chuck wrote to her. After the first couple of weeks with no reply, he figured that she was busy, being a spy. After a few months, he thought that maybe she was mad, and apologized for whatever he had done wrong. After no reply for a year, Chuck wrote one last letter and sent it the anniversary of when she left, and began trying to move on with life.

--

Director Graham walked into his building, a coffee cup in hand. Doing a quick sweep with his eyes, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He passed by the mailboxes, and noticed something. The agents barely ever got mail, except for important notices that were printed on crisp, white paper. However, in Sarah Walker's mailbox, there was a blue envelope. He took it. It was from Chuck Bartowski, and this meant distractions that Walker couldn't afford to have. But no worries, he thought as he put the envelope in his pocket. She wouldn't get these letters.

--

Sarah waited, and waited, but no letters came. It was like being shot every time when she went to her mailbox, but there was nothing there. Not even one. Sometimes in between the short missions, she sat down on her bed and cried, thinking that he hated her. It was this feeling… a feeling that told her to give up.

It was her last assignment, Graham told her, before her contract with the CIA was up and she could reassign or continue it. A total of three months with her new partner, Joe Linley, and they would go on various missions to help take down a large drug empire. The second she met him, she was reminded of Chuck. He had blonde hair like her, the same brown eyes she'd grown to love, and a sense of humor that helped lighten Sarah's mood in between missions. She tried, but the mix of a history of falling for her partner, the resemblance to Chuck, and well, the fact that she was drawn to him wore her down. They both fell hard for each other, and it wasn't love, but when Joe asked her to join him after this assignment for another couple of years in the CIA, she began seriously considering it. At the end of their assignment, Sarah told him that she would think about it and report back to him in a couple of weeks. And surprisingly, he understood, also knowing that there was a chance that she would say no. After eight years in the agency, it would be a serious leap for her to continue. But he still hoped.

--

"Is this going to have a happy ending?" Rachel interrupted suddenly. "I'm having a hard time not knowing."

Laughing, Charles replied that she would have to wait.

"Can you give me a hint?"

He shook his head. "You always were impatient."

"What do you mean, always was?"

Charles stopped, thinking quickly, trying to satisfy her now suspicious stare. "Sorry," he said, tapping his head. "This old noggin keeps mixing you up with someone else I know. But both of you… learn some patience, really. You'll see soon enough."

She laughed along with him, satisfied with his answer, and told him to go on.

--

For some reason, every time Sarah decided to stay with Joe, Chuck popped back into her head. That was why she had to settle this once and for all. She'd done some research, and was now on her way to South Carolina. Sarah prepared her speech, prepared how loud she would yell. Two years she'd waited, but not one letter was received. With each mile, her anger built up more and more. Thirty more miles, anger. Ten more miles, rage. One more block, she was like a pot filled up to the top with water and boiled. She was steaming.

But then she stopped. The moment her eyes laid on his house, it was as if the Earth stopped rotating. However, since she was not flying through the atmosphere at 1532 feet per second, she knew that she was just imagining things. But the house…

It was a white, two-story house. Blue shutters, and a white picket fence surrounding three sides of the property. And this single house was the reason why all of the anger that had been building up suddenly drained out from her.

Suddenly she wanted to pack up and leave. Sarah wanted to, like she'd always been good at, run away. She couldn't face him, not now… but of course, since the world seemed to always be against her, out came Chuck Bartowski, his hair short and gelled up, his lanky body holding car keys. When he saw her, he also stopped in his tracks, so that the two people who'd been preparing what to say for the past two years, suddenly could not speak or utter out any sound. Chuck dropped his car keys, and awkwardly leaned down to pick them up. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity.

"I," she squeaked out, barely audible. "I wanted to see you."

Chuck's brow furrowed, clearly not able to hear her. Sarah repeated her sentence, her voice cracking, but this time he heard what she said. But he couldn't think of a reply.

"Can we…?" Sarah asked hesitantly. "Can we go for a drive?"

--

Chuck breathed a shaky sigh. They were both skirting around what they really wanted to say, instead commenting on the beautiful scenery. But he knew that they were going to talk, in this car. Whenever there was an issue, whenever they wanted to talk, they always went on a drive. And then she said it.

"I… I like your house."

The car stopped, and they lurched forward. "Thank you. It took me a long time to find it."

"When did you move?"

He looked at her, her lips in a straight, serious line, concentrating on the dashboard. "A couple of months after… after you left."

She stared at him suddenly. "Chuck, what happened to us?"

Stopping in the middle of the road, he turned toward her angrily. "You mean, what happened to us writing? What happened when I got zero replies from you?"

Sarah couldn't believe it. She'd waited two years and now he was blaming this on _her?_ "What are you talking about? I checked between every missions!" Tears sprung from her eyes, but she kept them from running down her cheeks. "I never got a letter from you! Chuck, you were the most important thing in my life, and you never wrote me. What was I supposed to do?"

Right there in the middle of the road (luckily it was barren), he got out of the car, leaning his head on the top of it. Sarah also got out of the car with a slam. "Was I not important enough?" she yelled when there was no reply from him. "Was two years too long? Could you not--"

His head jerked up. "What are you talking about? I sent you letters. I sent you one every. Single. Day. For a year I never failed. And now you're yelling at _me_? 365 letters, Sarah! The last one was a goodbye letter. I never expected to see you again. And then you just show up here. I don't know what to think."

And as if it were a movie, it started to rain. Every second it got harder, until both were soaked. They hopped back into the car, and Chuck quickly drove back the couple of blocks they'd traveled, ending back at his house.

"I never stopped thinking about you," Chuck gasped after they successfully ran back into the house. "The house, everything…"

"I never got your letters, Chuck. I don't understand it."

His eyes grew dark. "Maybe you should ask the CIA what happened."

"What are you…?" Then it dawned on her. Of course. They probably… which meant… her mind was running a mile a minute. "So what does this mean… for us? Are we… are we over?"

"We were never over, Sarah," Chuck said forcefully. "I've always loved you."

Their bodies collided, lips connecting first, and for the first time in two years, they felt at home.

--

She said she had to go. Had to figure this all out. Chuck took it as a sign, a sign that she was running away. He repeatedly asked, begged, pleaded for her to stay. But she said that she had to leave. Finally, as she was about to pull away, she suddenly stopped the car and ran into his arms. "I promise I'll be back," she whispered into his ear before embracing him.

--

"I feel like I've heard this story, more than once."

Charles stared at her a few moments. "Yes."

"I want to hear the end. Does she go back? Or does she stay away again? I hope this is a happy ending."

Readjusting his glasses once more, Charles continued to read, the pages now thinning down.

--

"How could you?" she yelled, storming into Director Graham's office. "You took them, didn't you? You took the letters he sent me, all of them!"

Silence was her only reply.  
"Where are they?" she screamed. "Give them to me!"

He sorted through a couple of drawers behind him, all the while silent, before taking out a bundle of multi-colored envelopes. She took them without a word, trying to suppress the urge to slap him.

"He was a distraction," Graham finally said. "You would function less on missions with the thought of him in the back of your head. I only did what was needed to be done."

Sarah seethed. "I quit," she said. "There's no way I'm coming back to this place. Is this what I get for honoring my country? Is this what the CIA is all about? Cheating, lying, stealing… tell Joe I'm sorry."

She then stormed out of his office into her car, where she began to read the first letter.

--

Charles heard a sniff. It was almost silent, but he'd trained his ears to pick up the slightest noise. He looked up to see Rachel sitting there, a tear falling down her face. "I remember," she whispered. "I remember what happens."

--

Sarah slammed the door of her car carelessly. The only thing she cared about right now was running into the arms of the man waiting at the door, his face delighted to see her. She sprinted toward him, literally jumping at him. Chuck caught her, swinging her around, and then lightly setting her down. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's go inside."

--

Rachel stood up but tripped a little, Charles grabbing her by the shoulders.

"I remember," she repeated over and over. She cupped his cheeks. "How long do I have?"

Shaking his head sadly, Charles replied, "I don't know. Last time it was no longer than five minutes."

Rachel lifted her hand slowly, silently asking for him, and he took it, leading them toward the window. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."

He closed the space between them slowly, as if savoring the moment. It was short but sweet, and Charles started leading them around in a circle, dancing to no music. After a couple of minutes, he stopped them. "I hate not being able to say this all the time."

"Say what?"

"How much I love you."

For some reason, she stopped then and looked at him strangely. Noticing that their hands were connected, she shook him off. "Who are you?"

No, no, she couldn't forget. Not now. "It's me, Rachel. Charles. I love you."

She slowly backed away. "I don't know you. Why are you in my room?"

He tried following her, but she started to scream. "Who are you? Help! Get away from me! Help!"

Two nurses ran in, and Rachel continued to scream to help while Charles repeatedly tried shushing her. As he heard her yelling, the room began to spin. And then he collapsed.

--

"Heart attack," they whispered.

"She remembered."

"She forgot."

"He scared her."

"Third heart attack."

He knew that they whispered about him. He was the patient who didn't need to really be there. But right now Charles didn't care. All he cared about was reaching her room. Slowly, slowly, one foot in front of the other, until he reached it. Opening the door a crack, he was afraid that she would scream again. But she opened her hand, guiding him toward the bed. He laid down beside her, and they held hands. "I love you," they whispered to each other. As if by miracle, she could remember again. "Don't leave me," she added, afraid that she would forget. And so he stayed with her, and they fell asleep holding hands.

Both of them died that night. Their hearts just failed, and in the morning both were found no longer breathing, beyond held. But the doctors who knew both of them took it as a sign. The man who loves his wife so much that he tried to make her remember by reading to her every single day, and sometimes earned a couple of minutes with the real her. It was only fate that they would die in each other's arms.


End file.
